a pilgrimage of sorts

Afterwards and afterwords

It feels quite sad again to have finished writing up our 2741 mile round trip. I do have to say that if F and the boys said that they wanted to do exactly the same thing again leaving today I would happily run upstairs and pack a bag.

Watching some of the videos reminds me of the laughter, impressions, stories, jokes and general banter that went on whilst we were on the road or sitting in the tent, many of these remain in our day to day conversations and mealtime japery.

As we noted at one stage T loves the fact the we have ticked off so many European Mountain Biking Parks, and in the last couple of days we have been chatting about going to Montgenevre again (last summer's favourite park) or Glentress (the previous year's best park) or venturing more to the east of Switzerland or even into Austria. I don't think I'll be able to spend four weeks on the road again for a while. Gutted.

We did some looking back at videos from the Scotland trip and some of the runs there were really good too. Midges were a pain, mind you.

T on the Omega Man at Ae from Howard Jameson on Vimeo.

We were so grateful that we were able to have the Landy. Whilst not the most comfortable Continental Grand Tourer we were safe and there were no problems.

 

The thrill of being able to get up into the mountains to play and take photographs hasn't left me, and I want to go back and see more, so would be happy with T's plan of other parts of Switzerland or Austria - although most of us want to get back to France ASAP.

The culture bit of the tour, especially in Ravenna, was fascinating. I loved learning about the Arians when at College and so to feel like I actually met them in their Churches and Baptistry was really stimulating. I had been in two minds about to what extent they may or may not be thought of as 'Christians' (the point at issue is their view of Jesus as being fully man). The mosaics in the Arian Baptistry seemed to tip my thinking away from seeing them as people with a slightly flawed understanding of who Jesus was. Their misunderstanding was based on, what to them at the time I am sure, was the logic of the day - God was spirit and eternal and not physical and earthy. The addition of the pagan deity (or was it Neptune) in the scene with John baptising Jesus, I think, shows that this misunderstanding easily led to a compromised view of far more.

That sounds judgmental - how could we know what it was really like then? As I read and write about issues to do with our move in the autumn this keeps coming back to me asking me again and again where my own understanding about who Jesus was might be shot through and distorted by the comfortable middle class environment within which I have growm and developed and in which I now inhabit my waking hours.

My just under 1500 photographs are now on my computer, and are a regualr feature of my random photo screen saver, so I find myself reminiscing as images appear on the screen. In addition, I have a really good A5 Box File into which I have placed my journal, along with receipts, maps and other snippets that I can go back and browse whenever I wish.

Sunday 5th August

Last day on the road dawns in sunny Douai. We have a mid-day tunnel booking, so can afford a leisurely breakfast here, and top up with cheaper French diesel. The 'places' option on the photo app on my iPhone now shows a string of pins outlining our route over the last month.

There is even a pin near our furthest point, out above the Marina di Ravenna, where I swam in the Adriatic. We have only 25 miles to go before we hit 2500 miles for the trip. I hate to think how much we have spent at garage and supermarket forecourts, but we did manage to avoid the service pumps in Italy.

F texted giving us the choice of home cooking or an Indian for supper tonight - well torn. Other than a bit of salami we have eaten well, but the food has been quite plain so curry is very tempting, but having said that a proper home-cooked meal from a proper hob! Luxury.

I reckon I have only worn about half the clothes I brought (by volume) as I don't think I even took the fleeces out of the bag, but that's the sort of thing you have to bring in case (and I was thinking that one of the others might use them if we got very cold or wet).

I try to empty my Post Office Euro Travelcard, so walk into town to use the servicetill. It is a sunny morning, and I take a bit of time whilst the boys shower to explore and see what the towers we saw on the way in might be. One seems to be a Town Hall type of building.

Not wishing to downplay the civic aspirations of the residents and Mayor of Douai, but I'm reminded of Trumpton. I wonder if I ought to wait until the clock strikes the hour to see if a couple of figues come out near the top.

The Travelcard has been an excellent idea - being able to top it up each day with a text from my phone, and also able to check the balance. I have put as little on the card I can this morning so that I can withdraw a round number of Euros and leave the minimum amount on the card, but it doesn't work. I think I must have omitted the fee for using an ATM in my calculations. Poo.

The other tower is a large Church, and I take some photos of other buildings in the morning sunshine - the not unusual northern European mix of old fashioned and more modern attempts at futuristic (but which now look the more dated).

This one is off Thunderbirds, I think.

My stroll round means I cross and re-cross the canal.

We load up and hit the road by 10:30, and make good time to Calais, stopping only for diesel and a snack. We reach the terminal by 11:50 (avoiding the temptation of the hypermarkets) and the automated check in books us on the 12:36 crossing - an hour earlier than we had booked.

However, the Customs checks and passport control queues mean we got straight onto the train without time to see if they have any Breton Cidre in the duty free, or use the loo. We try to work out why they focus attention on swabbing door handles and window surrounds on the cars. Explosives, apparently.

Getting on the Tunnel from Howard Jameson on Vimeo.

 

UK-side we hit Maidstone Services, as is now a bit of a tradition, for a Costa Coffee and a sandwich. A lovely old Maserati Bora in orange circles the car park looking for a space. I stroll across to try to find it to take a photo, but as I draw near the man has got out and is changing his shirt, and I don't want to look like a perv.

The M25 proves to be very slow and we lost most of the hour we had gained on the crossing. Back at the Farm F is still out to lunch with an old friend because we are earlier than I had said we would be, so we empty the Landy of everything and sort out the bits of camping kit we would need for Soul Survivor. A gyrocopter flew over, like Little Nelly from 'You only live twice'.

T and I try to work out the last time we had a proper mug of tea. We empty the swearbox. We had hoped this would pay for a final round of ice-creams, but it fell into disuse after a day or so and only contains five 20p pieces and a 50 cents coin - I think I put all this in on behalf of my co-passengers.

We have a stonking home-made lasagne for supper, and then F and I walk the dog. The English summer seems to have come north with us.

F drives the final stretch back to Winsley. We leave around 8 so we can be up bright and early tomorrow to tow the caravan to Soul Survivor...but that's another story.

Miles today - 266.

Saturday 4th August

Our last full day on the Continent!

Am awake at 5 with the noisy Norma next door (see yesterday's video evidence) but get back off again, thankfully. We had been talking about how much we have enjoyed the two phases of this break - the touring/hotels bit and the camping/biking sections, and how quickly we have switched from one to the other.

It is noticeably cooler in the car park before breakfast with some cloud, although warm when the clouds part. The thicker cloud seems to be to the north though. My right hamstring is still tight, as it has been since Italy, so I keep trying to stretch it out - nothing too serious but it did cramp up on our last night camping  which proved tricky as I had to bend my leg in order to get out of the sleeping bag. I also manage to post to my normal blog using Blogsy which I had downloaded for the iPad. This was my 2000th post since I first blogged in May 2005.

Our first stop on the road is Laon as I had seen the Cathedral on the hill as we had driven up and down the autoroute previously. Laon itself looks like an ideal set for a Three Musketeers film.

The Cathedral of Notre-Dame is glorious in the scale and yet lightness of the interior. Like Reims this is another early Gothic rebuild (second half of the 12th century through to the early 13th) and so there is a lot of height in the pillars and galleries.

The exterior is also typical of this style with a complex west end and, famously at Laon, a huge number of towers. Five of the original seven survive.

The slightly sinister looking creatures with horns that are visible near the tops of the towers are actually bulls, marking the work done by bulls pulling the stones all the way up the hill to where the Cathedral was to be built.

But it is the interior which I found most stunning. The vaulting in the ceilings is quite an interesting piece of design as the clerestory windows up at the highest level have alternating styles of vaulting so as to maximise the openness to the light.

We sit outside to ponder the magnificence and find a cafe opposite. We then walk around the Cathedral and can look back east across the plain with the autoroute obscured slightly by the line of trees. The lady in the hat sitting on the bench to the right of the photo then started singing and walking towards us, so we continued around the Cathedral and back to the car.

Further north on the autoroute and we stopped for lunch at the jam packed services near Urvillers, before we strike out west along the E44 making towards Thiepval. We followed the sat nav but stopped when we found a roadside cemetery called Peake Wood. I found the neatly arranged rows of graves tremendously moving.

It is a still and calm spot, but sad nonetheless. We pass what we think is a German cemetery, but it feels more hidden behind hedges from the road. Our next stop was the majestic monument to the missing at Thiepval.

The sheer scale of the names of the missing from the conflict around the Somme is mind boggling and awful in equal measure. Name after name, in column after column on panel after panel around the bases of the sixteen pillars.

Occasionally a name will have been removed when remains are formally identified, and out at the back of the memorial are yet more burials. None of the photos quite capture the appalling desolation and yet dignity of this place.

We then set off up the lanes towards the village of La Boiselle in search of the Lochnagar Crater. We park on the side of the track and cross over to the crater. Nature has gone some way to recaliming the crater itself, with grasses and plants growing on the slopes, and the decking around the top allows a visitor to walk all the way around without risk of slipping or damaging the wild flowers. This marks more or less the front line of the German trenches on the day the Battle of the Somme began, and the enormous explosion blew soil (and presumably Germans) some 4000 feet into the air.

All this land around is now gently rolling farmland, not dissimilar to the parts of Wiltshire on the edges of Salibury Plain that we know so well.

I programme the sat nav for the hotel and we set off. The numbers at the top of the iPhone screen when the tomtom app is running show you how far you are from your destination, but with 2.5 kms to go to we are pretty certain we have gone wrong. We cross a single track bridge over a canal, and we are then most definitely on farm tracks with crops growing up on either side. I must have made a typo when I programmed the Ibis in Douai into the phone as the only info the email confirmation gave me was latitude and longitude. Transposing two digits, for example, might explain why, when I carefully retype the co-ordinates in, the phone now says there are 60kms to go.

Arriving in Douai itself is also tricky. There are major roadworks in town and the obvious main drag into the centre is closed. The satnav calculates an alternative route but this too leads to a narrow bridge over a canal and suggests driving up a road which is clearly one way the other way. I don't have time for a photo, but this is the nearest I can get on Google Street View. We turn around (tricky on narrow roads with a Landy) and head back for the Centre-Ville until we find the Ibis tucked away slightly, but very pleasant and friendly. They even allow us to leave the bikes in their Conference Room.

Douai seems clean and friendly, but a lot of places seem closed which is strange for a saturday evening. The Receptionist at the Hotel suggests two possible restaurants. The Creperie (where we might get good Breton Cidre) is some walk across town, so instead we aim for the one across the square, stopping by the local bar as we await opening time.

La maison de Leopold is extremely pleasant. E orders Carbonara (which was so tricky to find in Italy) and it comes with an egg yoke in half a shell on top.

I have a very decent steak followed by creme brulee and a coffee. We stroll back and see that the rear tyres of the Landy are caked in mud from our having to do a three point turn on the farm tracks, so we have a little memorial of our own and some Somme mud to take home.

Our last full day on the road and we love the Landy to bits. I apologise to her for considering whether to purchase a VW campervan. Pamela, I am sorry for even thinking such unfaithful thoughts. You have been awesome.

We eagerly download the newly released trailer for Skyfall, the next Bond movie, and then watch the second episode of season 2 of Extras. E really enjoys them - is he having a laugh?

Miles today - 183.

Friday 3rd August

It is good to be back in France again! Waking up at the Ibis Dijon Sud there is a flurry of activity outside. The Brits in the VW California with bikes on the back have already left (good job as the Dad was really grumpy yesterday afternoon). We only have about 3 hours on the road today so we can afford a alte breakfast and, hopefully, time to explore the Cathedral and city centre at Reims. I still find myself mangling Italian and French, though, saying 'Si' for 'Oui' and so forth.

I decide to have a shave this morning, and bump into an old friend! Yes, the moth we lost the other evening in the tent had taken up residence in the shaving kit section of my washbag and is now fluttering around the en suite in my room.

I hope the moth is bilingual, because I am not taking him back and I'm not sure moths have a very good homing instinct. I am actually a little relieved because we once had a moth set off the Landy alarm at night, flapping near the sensors, and they are almost impossible to find inside the vehicle if they are hiding away. This morning I am also very happy with my impulse buy from last night - Cora sports socks.

We get going by about 10:30 (good breakfast at the hotel, by the way) and stop shortly afterwards for elevenses at a Paul Patisserie in the service station - double espresso and a Grille aux Pommes.

There are a lot of people around on the roads today, and we stop for lunch at one of those services where one side has to cross the bridge to use the facilties on the other side. We discover we are back at the Troyes services we stopped at on the way down.

We arrive in Tinqueux, on the outskirts of Reims, but late afternoon and so have time to drive into town. The manager reckons we can park roadside without bothering to pay at this time of day, but we get a bit confused due to some complicated junctions and park near the railway station and pay at the meter. We knew this bit because we had parked here twice last year to drop Sam off at the station.

The Cathedral of Notre Dame in Reims is amazing - the west door, indeed the whole west end, are quite mind-blowing. We have to walk away from the cathedral in order to get the whole thing into a single photograph.

With questions of conflict going through the back of my mind I was particularly struck by the irony ofthe recent history of the Cathedral It had been badly damaged by German shelling during the First World War and even though restoration began in 1919 it didn't finish until 1938, just in time for the next one. Inside the Cathedral is vast and spacious.

There is also a strong sense of people coming into the Cathedral to pray, not just to take photographs.

The Cathedral is noted as a fine example of the Early Gothic period, being rebuilt in the 13th Century. The emphasis changed from the previous Romanesque style, placing greater virtue on slim columns and greater height, presumably as building methods advanced and some of the problems involved in supporting a heavy roof were solved.

We walk back to the car, but as we have some time stop in an outdoor cafe for a drink. I opt for an Americano a la Maison.

The city centre is bustling on this warm afternoon, but lacks a bit of French charm in my humble opinion.

Back at the Tip Top I am being teased by the boys. We didn't stay here on the way down because, even though we had stayed here twice before, Tripadviser was a bit snooty about it. In partiuclar there is a very small breakfast bar and if a coach party, for example, were in then it would simply grind to a halt. This time I thought we would risk it but booked a Superior Triple room, thinking we could all bunk in together for a night. When we checked in they upgraded us, at no extra cost, to a twin and double. However, the double was at the back of the hotel which overlooked the Norma supermarket next door, and whose noisy air conditioning was an all too ready memory from 12 months earlier. Being hot I had no choice but to leave my window open. I made a short video.

Tip Top hotel Tinqueux from Howard Jameson on Vimeo.

 

We use the wifi to plan our next day. Since driving down the A26 last year I have wanted to visit the Cathedral on top of the hills to the west at Laon. There was a tourist sign on the peage about V1 and V2 rocket sites, which I think must be La Coupole neat St Omer, but I'm not sure we will go there. The Thiepval Memorial near Albert seems an approriate place to go and pay respects. As we are close we could also go to The Somme near Amiens. T also suggests the crater near The Somme at La Boiselle.

Supper at The Flunch is good as ever, and then we browse around the Carrefour. We find some Breton Cidre, so reckon we can fit four bottles in the back of the Landy. The Tip Top wifi is much better than the Ibis so I can download a full season 2 of Extras, so the boys will have more to watch.

I can also check the weather for the week ahead in Shepton Mallet ready for Soul Survivor. 17C and rain showers, so it looks like putting up and taking down more soggy tents. Looks like back to Blighty with a squelchy bump.

Miles today - 205

 

Thursday 2nd August

After midnight the rain subsided and it quietens down, but within an hour there is another really heavy downpour. Water starts to run under the porch section of our tent and forms puddles on the dry earth. I get up and move as much of the things we have in the porch into the dry inner tent, but inevitably we will be packing some damp kit away in the morning. Eventually there comes a point where the sound of water flowing away becomes louder than the pitter-patter of rain on the tent roof. In the morning everything is still damp, but with a warm sun is already beginning to dry.

We are on the road up to the mountains just after 11. With me driving it falls to T to operate the camera. The SS26 winds up the valley giving little opportunity for a pull in to take properly composed pictures, so T grabs what he can as a record. There are increasingly spectacular views of Mont Blanc, even with the peak shrouded in cloud, up through Morgex and Courmayeur and, with one diversion for roadworks, to the tunnel itself. They seem to be quite touchy since the serious fire in the tunnel in the 90s, and so we are held back from going into the tunnel proper until the traffic has calmed down.

11kms later we emerge on the French side of the mountain. As we descend to Chamonix there is a little pull in amongst the trees to the right and we stop so I can walk back to get a shot of the mountain from the other side.

It is then onto the E25 Autoroute Blanche - twisty, turny dual carriageway with cliff face to the left and a drop to the right. This is the sort of road one imagines oneself being on when one dreams of owning an Aston Martin DB5. In a fully loaded Defender, with a high ride and softer suspension, it is less exhiliarating and a little more scary. Large lorries group together on the inside lane and overtaking feels a challenge. However, being back in France means the crash barriers look as if they would work.

We stop for a sandwich and an espresso. E buys some Pringles and questions how much space there is in the top of the tube before we eat a single crisp.

Mont Blanc and the mountains seem to be receding rapidly as we make good headway on the motorway. We soon hit flatter territory, passing south of Geneva and winding along the A40. The valley to the north, on our right, looks beautifully gentle after the mountains, but we soon get back into hillier terrain with lots of raised road sections plunging into tunnels through cliff faces.

Last year we had stopped at some services near Bourg-en-Bresse which claimed to have the largest sculpture of a chicken in the world (and incredible, virtually al fresco urinals!) but we couldn't find it (it was further north on a parallel motorway section to the one sat nav put us on). We headed west around Macon and there are some fabulous towns and Churches in the distance.

We get back to the Ibis Dijon Sud where we had stayed on the way down, tired and sweaty, by 5ish. A shower and a doze are needed, but I feel hungry. We will be going back to the Cora next door for our supper. Our 2000th mile came up around Bourg-en-Bresse - Pamela has behaved impeccably!

It is funny being so disconnected from the Olympics, even though we will be watching the Men's Mountain Biking in 10 days time. We catch glimpses on the French TV news channel - looks like the pesky French have won something. Herring salad, followed by meatballs and (inevitably) Iles Flotante at the Cora. We discuss the peage which had been chocker with caravans, mostly Dutch folk migrating home for the winter. I texted my brother because we saw a caravan which I thought was called a Sodwind (I would buy one of those), but as we got close I realised it was actually a Südwind (never trust an umlaut). There were a huge variety of Hobby caravans, including the 'Hobby Excellent Easy' and also a 'Kip Deluxe'.

After supper I doze a bit more, listening to EST, and then at 9 we all meet up in the bar for bottles of water and Coke whilst we chat over tomorrow.

There are a huge amount of channels on the Hotel TV - mostly rubbish. 'View to a Kill' dubbed into French anyone? We were given free wifi cards with a limit of a couple of hundred megabytes download, and the boys both use their's up watching Youtube clips of mountain biking.

Despite having really enjoyed our two blocks of camping I do have to say that, after last night's storm, it is lovely to be in a proper bed with quiet music on the iPod.

Miles today - 240.

Wednesday 1st August

Woken by the Church clock tolling 7. I heard them ring 3, 4 and 5 and then was aware of the builders doing a roof in the village, banging and crashing like the the Slag Brothers off the Wacky Races. 

On the way up to Pila we are nearly hit by a dozy Citroen coming towards us in the middle of the road. We could see our normal route through the village blocked by a cement mixer, and sure enough at the roundabout immediately prior to it there is a totally disinterested workman waving traffic onto the next exit. Around the bend came Mr Citroen, seemingly looking across the valley to our left. He hit his brakes hard and there was a real action movie squeal of his tyres, I was confident I had seen him and moved well over to the right, dodging him comfortably. We have seen quite a bit of lazy lane positioning and I am still totally baffled by Italian speed limits. My Tomtom app on the phone shows me the speed limit but they vary almost at random. If you have a gigantic lorry hurtling towards you in your rear view mirror or are being overtaken by somebody towing a caravan then the chances are that you are still technically breaking the speed limit.

We use my gorilla tripod and iPhone mount to make a video of the last couple of miles up to Pila, complete with hairpins. As a warning it is about 7 minutes long and not a lot happens, except for some giggling about a little old lady, but it brings back happy memories for us.

Hairpins to Pila from Howard Jameson on Vimeo.

 

I settle back into my office (table 12 in the Bar Seggovia) with a Cafe Americano. The owner spots me and gets my order going without any prompting from me. I like my new office. I aim to walk up to the edge of the tree line to try to get some action photos of the boys coming down one of the banked curve sections on the descent.

I sat here and read Colossian 4 yesterday as F said she had been to Andover Baptist Church on Sunday and that had been the text of the Pastor's final sermon as he too was leaving. I read Ephesians 4 this morning - unity and maturity. Heading up to the bottom of the trails I could look back and see Pila along with the preparations being made for the forthcoming European Cup event.

I made it up to the trees (only slipping on the loose soil once) and get a couple of shots of the boys, one of which we all really like.

We stroll down to the carpark below the Hotel De Neige for our lunch and we hear some of our favourites, the Esbjorn Svensson Trio on the Swiss Jazz Radio being played from the loudspeakers at my desk in the office. We enjoy our baguettes until a Brit campervan drives in and empties his chemical toilet in the drain point, which slightly detracts from the ambience.

Up at this altitude we see more Landy's than normal, and we are thrilled to see that there is an Aosta Valley Land Rover Club. I wonder if they accept temporary members?

It has been good to be able to get away and spend so much time doing quite mundane things (driving and cooking, walking and taking photographs) and having this precious time to let the brain freewheel.I feel I have put some space between now and the last 24 months or so, although I am concerned about going back into the environment that created some of the conflict issues, albeit only for a few weeks. The risk of trying to make a cutting remark as 'the final word' will not being any healing so is useless to try, but it is the sort of thing human nature does so easily. I am also really excited by the next steps and with two months to do some thinking, reading and writing, as well as some visits to Patchway to start to get to know them a little more.

The boys finish their runs and we return to the site. I fall alseep on the beach towel whilst the boys listen to music. T is re-reading the Jeeves and Wooster books again, and we enjoy his throwing in the occasional quote into our in-car conversations. We have Pasta Carbonara for supper (recipe provided from home by F over text as I can't find any Carbonara sauces in the Crai or other supermarkets) and we try a couple of Peroni Gran Riservas (never seen them before but we find them in Sainsbury's when we get home).

Henrik points out that the site doesn't accept credit cards so I head off into Arvier to get some cash from the ATM and take a minute to photograph some of the buildings.

After supper we started organising for packing in the morning and a thunderstorm approaches from the south. T reckons it is still a long way away, but the thuner echoes around the mountians in a really dramatic way. We try to make a video of the flashes of lightning, but only seem to attract the amused attention of our neighbours. Crazy Inglese!

Thunder storm at Arvier from Howard Jameson on Vimeo.

 

(Just to explain some of the comments at the start of the video clip the hilltop is actually only perhaps 50 feet or so, which makes the pylon out to be about 15 feet tall, but we have been joking all week about how tall it must be to have such a prominient position on that nearby mountain.)

We now have full scale rain forming on the porch roof. I make a video of T trying to sort the puddles out (we always seem to end up videoing T in a tent whilst it is raining!) but it is still coming down really hard - surely this can't last very long! We get a bit of a sunset with storm clouds still around.

Thunder and lightning continue after dark with ever more dramatic flashes and bangs. Eventually is seems to move north and I can count 18 between the flash and the rumble but it is still raining.

T uses his old skill gained as a year 5 member of the Sandford Middle School Moth Club, and identifies a moth that has taken sanctuary in the tent (and flying into our faces when we put our headtorches on). We try to swat the blighter, but he disappears somewhere in the tent's contents. Another flash and this time we only get to 5 before a really big bang. That is loud. The next one is only 3 before the noise hits us. We decide to turn in at about 10:30. Is it calming down?

Miles today - 40.

Tuesday 31st July

I finally found some eggs in the Crai minimarket! The shop is quite small, but the shelves are really tall and there seems little rhyme or reason to product location. Nevertheless, we enjoy egg bread for breakfast. No nutmeg or cinnamon, mind you, so mixed Italian herbs has to substitute.

I need to go over and check something with the Danes. Yesterday we had been out and talking about Bicycle Repair Man and this morning it sounds like they say the same thing (or it could have been some Danish which just sounded similar). Sure enough, they had been talking Monty Python.

 

This started a brief spell of Monty Python quotes and phrases shouted between the tents.

"He's not the Messiah - he's a very naughty boy!" etc. Benjamin loved it, but Eva complained that they will not shut up all day now.

T thinks his knee is better so we head up to Pila again. Back up at Pila I write using my Space Pen again which makes the journal look a bit spidery - I much prefer my handwriting with the Lamy. Both boys head up on the Chamole chairlift.

I head off to the Bar Seggovia for a Cafe Americano (by now the barista knows my order) and I sit and write with Swiss Jazz Radio playing over the loudspeakers. I narrowly avoid an immensely Ricky Gervais-esque moment when I spot a child sized bike waiting to go up on the lift, but realise it is being used by a man with dwarfism to hit the trails. Well done Sir!

The boys return excited because there are a couple of Team Lorries in the upper car park at Pila arriving early for the European Cup event next weekend.

The boys then enjoy a second run and are thrilled because, for part of the course, they are diverted onto the infamous World Cup trail due to continued preparations for the weekend. On the way back to the campsite we too are diverted by a policelady, and in the absence of further signage, end up going back through Aosta again, so we stop at a different shop, Conad City, for beer and sweets.

At the site it is wonderful with sunshine and shade, so I spread out a beach towel and enjoy a doze. T ish reading, finishing his Jeeves and Wooster book (again) and E is listening to music (again). I go on to make Spag Bol for supper and we have snaffled two big bottles of Budwar in the site fridge so they are properly cold. I download some Goons off iTunes (we had been saying things like "ah look, he's fallen in the water" for a couple of days since the Crazy Golf incident).

We also check online for high altitude ink pen advice. The answer is, of course, obvious. The problem is when there is air and ink in the cartridge because as you get higher the air in the cartridge will expand and push any ink out of the nib. The ideal is to have the pen either completely full or totally empty, but failing that to have the pen held nib upwards (so the air is at the top of the cartridge and can escape without ejecting much ink in the process). We will bear this in mind when we tackle the Mont Blanc tunnel in two days time.

More Dutch folk are arriving and one feels the need to go over and explain the set up and establish a pecking order. I imagine it rather felt like this at Colditz. We don't want any newcomers upsetting the guards!

After supper we sit outside and talk about films before I head off for a shower and the boys wash up. I love hearing Dutch being spoken, they have such a wonderful lilt. Marco, next dorr, is chatting to his new neighbours on the other side. They all seem to like sitting out after dark with candles and lamps and enjoying the warmth - I guess that gives the kids in the tents chance to go off. With 4 sets of Church bells every hour through the night I have not slept that brilliantly since arriving at Arvier, but popping the iPod on or reading on the iPad at 2am is so peaceful.

Miles today - 40.

Monday 30th July

A bright, clear morning but still on the cool side compared to the previous week or so in Italy. Lots of our Dutch neighbours are packing today - must be their migration season. I make the mistake of getting to the Crai minimarket too early and so I have to sit on the bench in the car park for 15 minutes. The road repairers next to the bike shop are in full swing and a bit like the Chuckle Brothers when the shop delivery lorry knocks one of their signs over. On my return one of those typical campsite discussions arises as we try to remember the name of the actor who played the kid who kept saying "What you talking about, Willis?" [insert canned laughter].

T says his knee is feeling better. Eva came over with some cream she has found helps her joints, but T has been using the ice packs and keeping his foot up as we watch our nightly episode of Extras.

We have been researching the Mont Blanc tunnel - €35 and a minimum as well as a maximum speed limit. However, the entrance is over 1200 mtrs altitude so I am worried about another ink pen leakage incident.

We drive straight up to Pila again, avoiding the sat nav blunder one way system and various unsigned road closures in the village of Gressan. T's knee is still not 100% as it aches as we get the bikes down, so he and I choose to walk today. We all took the Chamole chairlift and E started his runs. T and I sat in the cafe and enjoy a Cafe Americano and a 7up.

The weekend after we left they held a major European Cup downhill event and one of the jumps is being got ready bottom right

 

I walk down and manage to get a photo of E flying past in a blur.

T and I then walk up above Chamole towards the Alpe Comboe. Hidden in the hills we find a beautifully clear lake, the Lago Chamole, although everybody else has found it as well. There are sunbathers, barbecuers, fishermen, kids, but it is still pretty staggering.

A carefully selected camera angle avoids the myriad holiday makers on the shore line

 

A steep climb up from the lake soon leaves the noisier elements behind and we reach a bench where we can sit for water before the final climb up to the viewpoint. Behind us there is a quite stunning cloud formation.

Up at the viewpont itself the mountains are like one of those world famous art galleries where your only response can be to sit down and take in the whole room as well as the individual pictures. And, of course, no photograph could do the whiole justice.

Across to our right the Matterhorn is clearly visible. Compared to the gentle looking mass of Mont Blanc the Matterhorn looks like a sinister finger raised in challenge. Here is a mountain with attitude.

I have a got at a panograph with an app on the phone, but the contrast between the ground and the clouds is too high so it doesn't quite work.

The clouds have developed rather, but still have a quality about them such that if I hadn't seen them in real life I would have expected them to be created by special effects and for an alien space ship to appear out of their midst.

We make our way back to the cafe again. As we sat an waited for our drinks we saw E appear on the chair lift, so he joined us for a coke.

These are truly wonderful boys - young men, really. We sit and chat, or laugh, spotting bikes that we like the look of or people with good kit. Best of all, though, are the one liners, impressions and stories we make up, all of us chipping in with bits and then all of us laughing. There is no sound on earth as wonderful as these two laughing together. What a joy to have this time with them. We miss F though.

 

T and I come down on the chairlift and are excited to catch a glimpse of E's white helmet as he comes out of the trees behind us. He spots us, we think.

 

We swing home via Aosta as E's gear change has developed a problem - one of his cables has sheared, and we need something for supper. In the Gros Cidac I show T the special salami room I had found, and he goes in to select one.

More complicated, however, was the process of getting a price on it. We look around expecting to find scales or a machine that printed a bar code but without success. A burly butcher with a meat cleaver in each hand lurches at me to make sure I go to the meat counter. He would be effective security. The boys laugh again.

The bike shop at the telecabina had closed, but T recalled a bike shop in town near the chemists we went to on Saturday, so we head round and are relieved to find a space to park almost outside. We love having our agricultural roofrack on the Landy where we sling the bikes and then just ratchet them down. It is fine in the car parks with bikers with pickup trucks or old vans, but less convenient here in the main shopping street with traffic and pedestrians all around. The basement repair area in the bike shop is terrific and they have the cable replaced in minutes. We spot a Cannondale bike with a single front suspension fork. It doesn't look right somehow, but apparently saves a lot of weight.

We make a second attempt to fill up at the Eni garage, but the French driver in front of us is unable to figure out the complex pre-payment system, so we give up and use the Esso one up the road. The Esso has a doberman dog sleeping across the front step of the shop which would seem to be more effective as a means of ensuring payment.

We introduce ourselves to our new Dutch neighbours from near Amsterdam, Marco and his wife. Supper tonight is going to be Milanese Chicken with salad and my attempt on a camping stove at bruschetta. Pretty decent outcome. Salad photographed in case anybody doubts the healthiness of our diet in F's absence.

The ever intrepid Danes have been rafting today and are leaving tomorrow to go hiking and to spend a night in a hut up in the mountains, so we hope to see them on Wednesday evening before we leave on Thursday morning. I go for a walk around the block and realise how little I have missed TV or anything else like that at all. I do like access to the internet so we can check the news or find a recipe, or even answer questions about obscure American comedy actors. Gary Coleman is the name of the actor we were trying to remember, by the way - if you are still interested.

The weather now is almost perfect - warm with a pleasant breeze. At the top of Chamole I had needed to put a fleece on, but coming back down to Pila on the lift had had to take it off again. Evenings are lovely and light and even after dark it doesn't seem that cold. Lying in bed I listen to Ben Cantelon. The Tomtom on my phone tells me we are 780 miles from home.

Miles today - 40.

Sunday 29th July

Grandpa's 90th Birthday. Happy Birthday!

The less optimistic forecasts of thunder overnight have been proved incorrect and it is now warm, sunny and breezy with high clouds. It could still rain, but we'll see.

T's knee seems a little better. A has been posting her photos from airport stopovers on her way back from the States on Facebook, so hopefully we'll hear from her later.

Lazy Sundays must be a pan-European concept as everybody seems to be slow today with the exception of the Danish uber-campers Henrik and Eva, now with their son Benjamin and his girlfriend Camilla. They were away before we got up.

We decide to aim for a rest day today, so perhaps I will go and photograph some castles or churches. T has worked out that our passes allow for non-consecutive days, so we won't lose any biking time. Although it is unlikely we will ever do this four week stint again the lack of decent chairs is an issue - something with a high back (for a snooze) and being able to all sit around a meal table. Space in the Landy meant we had to leave some stuff behind. Being in the shade at Arvier for most of the day is a good thing, but getting good shade at Chatel was more problematic. The front door of the tent can be extended outwards with two poles and some guylines, but that is more rain than sun protection. Two sets of Dutch campers nearby have professional looking hammocks which are strung between trees. Nice. Having said that, sitting in the very back of the Landy in the shade, doors open to let in the breeze with sunlight dappling the ground whilst reading and lsitening to music is pretty good.

The executive decision seems to make itself that we will not use the car today, for the first time in three weeks, except for hanging some wet washing on the roofrack. Driving the Landy like this is awesome, but everybody has been patient and a star - F for sharing the driving (and coping with the Italian contraflows), T is happy with in the back listening to music and reading or chatting in the front to keep the driver alert (and on the right side of the road) and E sits in the back with his headphones on (but wishing he wasn't in the car quite so much).

After lunch I went to ask site-owner, Franco, for suggestions for a walk. "From here?" was his rather bemused response. There is a chapel visible in the distance up on a hill top above the next village, so I guess a route and head off.

I take a side road to avoid the main drag up to the Mont Blanc tunnel and soon reach the village of Leverogne.

I skirt the sprawling metropolis to the south and find the start of the winding hairpins up towards the chapel.

 

 It is called the Rochefort Shrine and boasts an annual pilgrimage. The final 100 yards or so is signed through the village, but it does feel as if you are intruding on their paths and gardens.

A nice lady directed me to the final climb before the views opened up around me and I was there.

The shrine with the peaks above Pila to the left. Pila itself is at the top of the treeline below the main jagged peak...

 

...and looking back the other way Mont Blanc looms large.

 

The Shrine itself is, sadly, locked. If this was an Anglican Church there would be a hand-written note telling me where to find a Churchwarden happy to come and unlock for me. The chapel looks beautiful at night across from the camp site all flood-lit and I notice that the floodlights are actually on all the time. There is a slot in the door for me to leave an offering. Classy. I sit in the shade on the front step and jot some notes and take a photo looking back to the village around the campsite.

Looking back to Arvier

 The hilltop Church across the valley from the campsite still looks impressively aloof from a different angle but further up towards Mont Blanc ever more precipitous hamlets and Churches are visible. Back to the east above Arvier (and Aosta invisible beyond) I can make out the red and white transmitter tower on the long telecabina ride up to Pila. From this angle the mountains above it look enormous.

I return via the cobbled streets of the village of Leverogne, but the Church there too is locked - on a Sunday?

Back at the campsite a quick cup of tea and then a dip in the pool, although the boys prefer to keep dry. We ring Grandpa and leave a Happy Birthday answerphone message.

The nice Dutch teachers opposite are packing to go home tomorrow and their new neighbours are also Dutch and have just produced the most enormous bell tent out of the back of a Golf. The intrepid Danes have been out since before we got up and return having spent the day canyoning. Sadly, Eva has twisted her back and so is in some discomfort. Henrik still says Italian driving is more dangerous. Pasta for supper washed down with a couple of Birra Moretti's. Lovely.

Our third week on the road draws to a close and our thoughts turn to home. E is getting a bit bored away from home comforts. T and I are both still chipper about 3 more full days of biking and then travelling back through France. Dijon and Reims are known stops (and we are particularly looking forward to our stay at the Tip Top in Tinqueux near Reims with a Flunch for supper). Douai, our stop beyond that, is unknown territory and we hope to see some of the WWI battlefields and cemetries.

Miles today - 0!

 

Saturday 28th July

I wake up on my 49th birthday after a very deep sleep. It is raining outside and so I lay in bed until 8:30. T makes a brew whilst I walk to the shop for bread and milk.

It looks like our Campinggaz cylinder is on the way out, so that is ten days of family cmaping off one charge - not bad. I think the Crai minimarket stocks them so I will add that to the to do list.

The plan for today is to drive up to Pila, avoiding the telecabina to save time as the best runs seem to be up around the Chamole chair lift, home-made sandwiches for lunch and then tonight a stroll round to the pizzeria for a slap up birthday meal.

I went to sleep last night lsitneing to the new Ben Cantelon album, and revising for the Soul Survivor trip by listening to 'Not Ashamed' this morning. The sun is also starting to break throug hte clouds so hopefully everything will dry out (including my Rohan shorts which I hand washed yesterday but are still too damp to wear this morning). My mind still goes over conversartions and situations that I wish could have been different but as I have been praying over them I do feel affirmation that, whilst I may have made mistakes which contributed, there is little in the big picture that would have been much different in the long run.

Hairpins to Pila on the sat nav

 Allelulia! After two high altitude exploding ink cartridge. We have driven up to Pila itself, altitude 1806 mtrs (or population 1806 if I have misread the sign) and my Fisher Space Pen actually works - not as good as a Lamy at seal level, but up here fab.

The boys get ready and go up on the chairlift, and I take my turn going up on the Landy roof.

I spot a cash desk at the base of the lifts which I had missed yesterday, so I can go up with the boys this afternoon. To be fair the time it takes to get ready is quite incredible. T is conscientious about checking tyres and lubing his chain, E tends to ride his bike round the car park to check it over and then head off to find a loo.

I sit in at the terrace cafe next to the base station and have a cafe americano. The view in front of me, looking across to the mountains, is terrific with misty cloud blowing across from the east. Behind me the big mountains across the valley above Aosta are hidden in clouds as well, but the sun is also out and there is a heat returning after the rain.

This would be heaven were it not for Elton John on the loudspeakers over the terrace. Mind you, it is Sarah Brightman up next. I might have to finish this coffee quickly.

After our chat with the nice Scot at Chatel T seems really fired up by a project for September building his own full-sus bike if we can find a second hand frame and forks. T is such a good man.

Having complained a little about the choice of music at the Cafe - a decent Americano with a view to die for all for €1 (80p).

I am not sure how the sat nav worked out our route coming up here. It put us on a tiny lane which proved to be one-way the other way. A nice builder-looking bloke in a pickup patiently explained in Italian and then English the mistake.

The boys returned for lunch, but poor T has jarred his knee on a drop-off and is feeling a bit sore. He decides to sit out this afternoon while E heads back up. After the runs we headed back into Aosta to look for a knee support in the Gros Cidac - no luck. We pass a big Farmacie in town but there is no parlking nearby, so we head back towards the camp site, knowing there is a Farmacie in Villeneuve opposite the Punto shop we stopped at the other day, but when we get there we find it has closed early because it is Saturday. We go back into Aosta and find a parking space on a side road and walk back to the big chemists we spotted before, where a very helpful man finds what we need. We also try to fill up with diesel, but having queued we discover that they only accept Italian Bancomat credit cards.

Back at camp there has been a big changeover. No sign yet of the Danes back from collecting their son and his girlfriend from Milan. The sun is out but more thunder is forecast.

On the drive back we had been simulatenously overtaken and undertaken by a pair of bikers, one of whom was the proud owner of an enormous builder's bottom. As we had walked up a side street in Aosta another biker had pulled a wheelie down the street. What is it with bikers round here?

A variation on the theme of bells this evening, presumably for Saturday Mass.

Mad bellringers at Arvier from Howard Jameson on Vimeo.

 

 We strolled into town to check out the food options. The nicest looking place was fully booked, so we ambled round to the Arvier Grill. T and I opt for starters, we all have pizza and then I have a tartuffo for pud.

Sadly, they don't take credit card but luckily there is an ATM next door. €55 is pretty good value, though. Walking back up through the cobbled streets there is a gazebo up and the locals appear ot be having a bring and share supper al fresco. If we had been Michael Palin of Celebrity Chefs then no doubt we would have been invited in to savour the local dishes, but we aren't so they don't.

Back at the tent we listen to the podcast version of last week's The Now Show and I will try to get the new one when the wifi area becomes teenage free. My 1000th photo of the trip turns out to be the one I took of my birthday pizzas.

The cheery teenagers outside the table tennis room where the wifi signal is strongest turns out to be quite a large Dutch contingent, including the couple from opposite. T thinks this is a ruse to cover the sound of a tunnel being dug out of the back of the washrooms.

Miles today - 49.

Happy Birthday to me.